


wanna rumble, city boy?

by idolrapper (wonwoo)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonwoo/pseuds/idolrapper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Soonyoung accidentally almost killed Customer #19, and one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wanna rumble, city boy?

**Author's Note:**

> corellation =/= causation but this fic is the product of one too many repeats of 1D's tragic new album.

1.

The first time it happens is 6PM on a Wednesday night. Soonyoung's been skittish all evening, eager to head to the dance studio to fit in some last minute practice before his recital Friday. The last thing he needs is a wolfpack of college boys, loud and headache-inducing, taking up two four-person tables in the restaurant and waving him over for menus he doesn't have enough of. His only consolation is the tenner the dark-haired, big-eyed leader rolls up and slips into his apron pocket, and the fact that they breeze through their orders like they've memorised a script. Small mercies.

"We're feeding an army tonight," Soonyoung says, perching himself on the steel benchtop in the kitchen. He swings his legs back and forth, hitting the pans stacked up underneath with an unceremonious _clang_ each time, and chugs down a quarter of his water bottle.

"Aren't we always," Lizzy replies cheerily, "Try this." She spoons out some of the rice she's cooking and flies it into Soonyoung's open mouth.

"What's the new ingredient?" Soonyoung asks through the mouthful of half-chewed rice.

"Shrimp," Lizzy states, shrugging, "We ran out of squid. The customers won't notice, right?" 

"Reaaaal professional, cap'n," drawls Soonyoung. He slides off the benchtop to start serving, chit-chat break over. "I'm out."

Swinging the kitchen door open with a cocked hip, Soonyoung makes his way through the minefield that is After School Diner during peak hour. He receives a few whoops nearing the college boys but they mostly ignore him as he sets the plates down on the haphazardly-joined tables.

There's one though, Customer #19, who offers him a perfunctory bow of the head, black hair kicking over his eyes. His mouth quirks but he doesn't smile, and immediately his attention is taken by the plate of rice in front of him. Soonyoung steps backward, spins around and bolts back to the kitchen to grab the rest of the dishes. 

In the next ten minutes, chaos ensues. Half the patrons are huddled around a figure lying on the floor and judging by her panicked, hurried speech Customer #26 seems to be calling an ambulance. Soonyoung jostles his way through to see Customer #19 (or Cold City Boy as he's newly dubbed him) flushed red and swelling up like a party balloon. _Shit_ , he thinks weakly, _I'm witnessing a lawsuit in the making_. 

Big-eyed Leader has managed to produce an Epipen from the denim pin-covered backpack hanging off Cold City Boy's chair. Soonyoung's immediate reaction is to squeeze his eyes shut, grimacing, when he moves to jab the needle in. 

The sirens come first, the paramedics second, and then Cold City Boy is being wheeled out of the diner. His friends trail close behind, food forgotten but the cheque thoughtfully accounted for. Soonyoung tidies up and returns to the kitchen where Lizzy is stirring a pot of marinara sauce, oblivious.

 

 

2.

The first dance recital of the year and Soonyoung's solo go off without a hitch. Afterwards, Junhui bursts in backstage and pulls Soonyoung into a hug. "You're a star," he whispers into Soonyoung's collar, "I mean it." 

Soonyoung has this dumb, beatific grin on, fingers shaking where they loosely grip Junhui's waist. "You did great too." 

On the drive home, Soonyoung's feeling punchy and he craves the downtime. Usually the adrenaline after a good dance translates into arousal but where unchecked, recklessness. Tonight, the latter triumphs. 

He mouths along to the Top 40, rubbing wearily at his temple as he navigates his beat-up car through the quiet campus neighbourhood. Within five minutes, there are three new variables to factor into this equation: torrential rain, a lone flickering street lamp, and a body materialising several metres ahead of Soonyoung's car.

" _Fuck_ ," he spits out, slamming on the brakes. His stomach lurches with the impact and he waits, waits for a telltale fleshy thud.

It doesn't come. The car screeches to a halt. So does the rain. Soonyoung pulls the handbrake up and exits the car, cautiously peering around the side. "Are you okay?" he calls out. 

He receives a groan in response. The person is stumbling to their feet, using Soonyoung's rusty-red bonnet as leverage. "It's cool," Almost-Roadkill slurs, and under their breath, "Asshole."

"Do you—do you need help?" Soonyoung says, slowly approaching them. 

Almost-Roadkill is swallowed up by their puffy coat, and Soonyoung can't get a glance at their face until they turn to him, shaking off their wet hood. 

Well, Soonyoung observes, he's looking remarkably un-swollen. Healthy. Not at all close to death. Cold City—Soonyoung really needs to stop with these monikers. The _guy_ squints, nose scrunching like he's trying to figure something out. 

Soonyoung helps him out, "So, when were you discharged?" He smiles, sweet and anxious.

The guy lets out a pressured exhale. "Are you a hired assassin? Who paid you?"

"Why would you think that," Soonyoung huffs, "Wait, who are _you_ —" He cuts himself short when he realises the guy's biting back a grin. He sighs. "I'm sorry. For the shrimp, too."

"If you're really sorry, you'll give me a ride home," he says, sly. 

Turns out the guy's dorm is a four minute walk away, which means they spend a grand total of one minute in the car together. But the rain has picked up again so Soonyoung doesn't feel too bad.

In fact, he feels good enough to blurt out, "Can I get your number?" when the guy is a leg out of the door. 

He raises a questioning eyebrow but quickly punches his number into Soonyoung's phone, the name left blank. He leaves with a hurried _thank you_ and _text me, I guess_ , clearly desperate to get inside. Soonyoung saves him as _Freeloader_ and drives off.

 

 

3.

Third time, After School Diner is fifteen minutes from closing and completely empty. Soonyoung and Chan, one of the new workers, are messing around in the kitchen, flicking soapy water at each other as they wash dishes.

"Did you hear something?" Chan pauses.

"Don't be a baby," Soonyoung teases, swinging the damp tea towel onto his shoulder. "I'll go check."

Cold City Boy is leaning on the counter, brow furrowed, and reaching out to ring the bell just as Soonyoung walks in. "You again," Soonyoung wheezes.

"Excuse me?" he says, looking put out.

"I mean, how can I help you?" 

"I know it's really late, I was on my way to the convenience store to grab some dinner," he explains. He gives his hair a nervous tug, sweater-paw sliding down his thin wrist and bunching up at the crook of his elbow. "But I passed by and figured..." 

Soonyoung waves his hand in the direction of the kitchen. "Come out back, I'll whip you something up." The _least I can do_ is left unsaid. 

"Wonwoo, hey," Chan says, when they enter the kitchen. He wipes his hands dry on his apron and fist bumps... Wonwoo. 

_Small campus_ , Soonyoung thinks. He gets the fry pan going to cook a simple, pointedly shrimp-less pancake, while Chan and Wonwoo chat about the campus prank war between Kappa Tau and Alpha Delta. It was sparked by someone called "Eggs" egging KT's frat house. He's a lone ranger, affiliated with neither fraternity, but his carefully-timed pranks always seem to hit the blame in each frat's ballcourt.

"No one actually knows who he is," Chan says, shuddering, eyes darting to the window. 

" _Baby_ ," Soonyoung repeats, laughing. 

"You haven't seen what I've seen," Chan counters, in a conspiratorial whisper.

Before Soonyoung can respond, Wonwoo's stomach interrupts the conversation. He hops off the benchtop and strides over to the industrial stove. "Smells insane," he says. He seems to have warmed up to Soonyoung considerably since he first entered the diner. 

Soonyoung grins smugly, taking the handle in both hands to flip the pancake. Thing is, he's never flipped a pancake this big before. And really, it's just an unfortunate coincidence how close Wonwoo had been standing next to the stovetop. 

The flame ignites, spitting up into the air as if escaping a dragon's mouth, and before Wonwoo can dodge it, his loose sweater-paw catches on an errant spark. 

"AHHH!" he screams, shaking his fiery arm. 

"AHHH!" Soonyoung screams, dropping the fry pan to the floor, hot pancake splattering all over his shoes. 

"AHHH!" Chan screams, hauling the fire extinguisher off the wall and spraying Wonwoo and Soonyoung in white foam until the fire's gone. 

Dead silence. Wonwoo splutters out a mouthful of foam and sighs.

 

 

4.

 _i kno u probably hate me_ , Soonyoung texts Wonwoo, _but lemme make it up to u. dinner on me?_

 _suuure, but i'll pick the place_ , is the response thirty minutes later.

"Oh my God," Soonyoung tells Jihoon across the dorm room. "Maybe he doesn't hate me."

"Get 'em, lover boy," Jihoon says, sarcastically, but Soonyoung squeals anyway.

They meet up at F.U.N, a cafe close to campus, and sit by the window. Wonwoo walks over to the counter to grab a couple of menus. Soonyoung watches him go, stomach doing a somersault. He bites the inside of his cheek, gaze returning to the table, and upturns the salt shaker onto the polished wood so he can waltz his fingers through the grains. 

When Wonwoo returns, Soonyoung sweeps the salt into his palm and discreetly deposits it on the floor near the wall. "You know, I never thought I'd go on a date with someone who tried to kill me," Wonwoo says, fiddling with his cardigan-paw. "Multiple times."

Soonyoung lets out a bark of laughter. "I wasn't _trying_. You were just unlucky." He lifts his shoulder in a one-sided shrug. Then, belatedly adds, "This is a date?" 

"If I'm unlucky, you've got the Sadim touch," Wonwoo says, "And yes. I think? I mean, if you want it to be."

Soonyoung's stomach does that flippy thing again. "I do," he replies, in a solemn voice. 

"Wedding vows already? I would've worn a tie," Wonwoo laughs. He pulls at the collar of his black t-shirt. Soonyoung's eyes follow the movement. 

"You look nice tonight." God, is Soonyoung's brain-to-mouth filter non-existent around this guy?

Wonwoo colours, smile broadening, but doesn't reply. Soonyoung counts it as a win. 

Over dinner, Soonyoung comes to find that, despite being off to a bumpy start, they actually have a lot in common. They're both good friends with Kim Mingyu. Wonwoo works at Soonyoung's favourite record shop in town. They both not-so-secretly like bubblegum pop and musical theatre and the Twilight saga, and so on... 

"Do you feel like dessert?" Soonyoung asks after some time, rubbing his belly over his shirt. Wonwoo's texting his roommate but nods, so Soonyoung heads to the counter and peers at the display. He picks out a fancy-sounding French dish and brings it back to the table to share. Wonwoo, attention still taken by his phone, takes a tiny bite with his tiny spoon.

The scene unfolds like this: Wonwoo starts gasping for air, cheeks pink and inflated. When he fumbles for his bag under the table, he loses his balance and topples to the ground. Within minutes, the manager of the cafe is calling up an ambulance. Soonyoung watches, horrified, as the paramedics wheel Wonwoo out for a second time, leaving him in the cafe alone.

Soonyoung pokes at the cake, chin in his palm. He squints suspiciously at the one miserable chunk taken out of it. _Peanuts_. Soonyoung's never feeding the bastard again.

 

 

5.

Soonyoung is at an Alpha Delta party with Junhui a week later. He texted Wonwoo a three-sentence long apology the day after their date, to which Wonwoo replied _it's ok, i should've told u :c_ and Soonyoung is seventy-five percent sure Wonwoo doesn't permanently hate him. He drunk-texts him anyway: _i wanted to be JYP when i grew up not a murderer, sr y i lvoe u!!!!!_

Right now, he's sitting on the armrest of a couch in the house, surrounded by a group of enraptured frat boys as he demonstrates his infamous octopus dance: slowly writhing his fingers up and down in a spherical movement. It's a crowd-pleaser. 

No one knows who makes the first throw. Everyone _knows_ but no one does, you know. Anyway, after Eggs throws punch in some frat boy's face, someone makes the second throw (olive canapes) and the third (a slice of chocolate cake) and that's how the Fraternal Food Fight of the Century starts. 

Soonyoung runs upstairs, expertly dodging hits (at least, he thinks so), grip tight on his ammo (a can of whipped cream). Eventually, he's backed into one of the bedrooms, near the open window, heart pounding in his chest. He holds out the can in front of his face, leaving his legs open for an unfortunate splattering of leftover spagbol. 

Then, someone is entering his periphery and taking his arm. Soonyoung's reaction is instantaneous, merely a result of self-preservation. He _sprays_. The person, with a faceful of whipped cream, trips backward, as if in slow motion, thighs hitting the window sill, and tumbles out of the window.

 _You've done it_ , the guilt-demon in Soonyoung's mind deadpans, _you've really killed him this time_.

 

 

+1. 

"How are you?" Soonyoung asks, the corners of his mouth pulled up sheepishly. He hovers in the threshold of Wonwoo's dorm room. "What's the damage?"

Wonwoo looks up and gives him a weary look from where he's laying on his bed, reading a book. He lifts up his cast leg a fraction, where it's propped up on a couple of pillows. "Fine, perfectly fine." 

Soonyoung perches on the end of Wonwoo's bed, twirling a Sharpie between his fingers. He uncaps it with his teeth and taps it on Wonwoo's cast. "Can I?"

He senses the trepidation in Wonwoo's face, so his automatic response is to take Wonwoo's hand in his. Brush the raised veins with the pad of his thumb. Wonwoo exhales. "Alright." 

Soonyoung leans over to write a message on Wonwoo's cast, punctuated with tiny emoji-drawings. "You know how people talk about the white light..."

"100% legitimate," Wonwoo cuts him off.

" _Really_?" Soonyoung says. He finishes off the tiny fox he's drawn, pleased. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. "I'll get my revenge someday. When you're least expecting it, just you wait." 

"Hm," Soonyoung starts, grinning, "Then you won't mind that I accidentally mistook rubbing alcohol for the wine I brought you at the hospital." 

Wonwoo goes pale. A moment later, he starts to slap Soonyoung's shoulder, muttering _restraining order_ under his breath. 

"Uncle!" Soonyoung cries breathlessly, forehead dropping onto Wonwoo's blanket-covered thighs. He rolls over and something shifts in Wonwoo's expression; it's slightly worrying how mischievous he looks. 

"You texted me at the party," he states.

Soonyoung's stomach sinks, like it did when he'd woken up the next morning, head pounding, and checked his phone. "I did." 

"I never replied." 

"You didn't," Soonyoung replies, sitting up and shuffling closer in wary anticipation.

"I hope I don't regret this," Wonwoo mutters, almost to himself. He stretches forward, cupping Soonyoung's cheek with a warm palm, and kisses him full on the mouth. Soonyoung makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, mind proceeding to flatline. His nerves buzz with the soft brush of Wonwoo's lips against his, spiking up when Wonwoo licks into his mouth, tongue flicking up against the roof of his mouth. 

Before Soonyoung can even comprehend the kiss, Wonwoo's hastily pulling away, knit in his brow like he's contemplating something. Soonyoung is too preoccupied with the cherry-red slick of Wonwoo's mouth to really care. "What was that?" he asks, watching Wonwoo's lips form empty syllables. 

"I _said_ ," Wonwoo repeats, "do you think that was the kiss of death?" 

Soonyoung lets out an empty laugh. "Hilarious." He combs his fingers through Wonwoo's hair, surging in again. "If you're gonna die, might as well enjoy yourself, Hot Stuff," he says against Wonwoo's mouth, hand dipping underneath the blanket.

**Author's Note:**

> *train voice* I'M ALL OUT OF LIIIIIES AND WAYS TO SAY U DIED (thank u to s for brainstorming w/ me ♡) sorry wonwoo, [i do love you](http://38.media.tumblr.com/f336cc3c81913ec72e8b0a0eda920040/tumblr_nri3p8Vz5a1uy6560o3_400.gif).


End file.
